Riding for Life

The SF-LA 2003 AIDS/LifeCycle Ride

                                                          photo by Anita Allardice

James Allardice
Mirror staff writer
  
   Somewhere between Ventura and West Hollywood – on the final leg of the seven-day, 600-mile bike ride to raise money for HIV/AIDS services – I saw someone holding a sign that said, “You are Heroes.”
   The sentiment is wonderful. The words are beautiful. But I don’t buy it.
   I am not a hero. I am simply one of a thousand people who rode their bikes from San Francisco to Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago.
   No one joined the second annual AIDS/LifeCycle bike ride to be revered as a hero. Everyone had his or her own reasons for signing up. Some have been greatly affected by the AIDS pandemic. Others rode to make people more aware of AIDS, still others because they deeply believe in the work of the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center, and some because they wanted a challenge. But many people took the ride for a combination of reasons.
   For me, it was a challenge. I didn’t even own a bike, and had no idea whether I could ride 595 miles in seven days when I signed up in December. Now, seven months later, I have completed the journey of a lifetime, accomplished my goal of peddling every mile and become apart of an amazing community.
   Early in the week, I discovered that the ride was not about how fast you finished each day’s route, or even about completing every single mile. The most memorable moments of the AIDS/LifeCycle ride for me were not the satisfaction of climbing the “quad buster,” or the “evil twins,” or spending all day every day for a week on a bike. What mattered most to me and what I will always remember was that a group of strangers became a community for one week.
   For me, Day four was a turning point. My legs no longer ached. Once I stretched and loosened up, I hardly felt them. And we passed the halfway point, and I felt as if I were atop a mule that knew it was heading for home. I was no longer pushing my bike down the coast – I was riding it.
   But Day four was also essentially our third “century” in four days. After riding 96 (close enough, right?), 104, 77 and 101 miles many riders were exhausted. They tell you the route closes at 7 p.m., and if you aren’t in camp by that time you will be “swept” into camp in one of the support vehicles. Apparently, they are lax on these rules.
   After arriving in camp just before 6 p.m., that evening I showered and headed over to eat dinner. We ate together, and listened to the nightly announcements. Midway through, Pat Christen, executive director of the SF AIDS Foundation, said the last riders were five minutes from camp, and asked us to give them a warm reception.
   It was after 8 p.m., and the two riders out there had been on their bikes for 12 to 14 hours. As they approached the camp, followed by members of the motorcycle crew and a sweep vehicle, the two riders were met by over 1,000 cyclists and volunteers giving them a standing ovation.
   It would have been easy for the riders to be discouraged. Such a long day – in both miles and hours – could have taken the spirit out of the two women. But the ovation they received, the hooting and hollering, seemed to last forever. In fact, it lasted over two minutes. It was such moments that demonstrated the triumphant human spirit the ride brought out in all of us.
   There are a certain fixtures at AIDS rides. As a first time rider, I was introduced to red dress day, proper etiquette – calling out on your left as you pass another rider, and the Chicken Lady. Day five was red dress day – apparently a tradition in which most riders wear something red, more often than not red dresses. I not only didn’t have a red dress, I wasn’t prepared to ride in a dress, no matter what color it was, but my bike is red, and that sufficed.
   I had heard about the legendary Chicken Lady, and the night before the ride I met her – or him – in the bathroom. On being introduced, I had to ask the question that hundreds of newbies must have previously asked, why the nickname? He explained that when he started riding, a friend said he was too chicken to do it. Years later, the Chicken Lady is still doing it, with unmatched enthusiasm and energy.
   The Chicken Lady is a Redondo Beach man who has ridden in 27 AIDS rides across the country and dresses, as, well, a chicken. His current bike has survived 21 of the rides, but a member of the bike tech crew noticed that it had begun to rust through on this trip.
   Without the Chicken Lady’s knowledge, a tip jar was circulated at various pit stops and camp to buy him a new bike. By that evening, nearly $1,500 had been raised. I was sitting just behind the Chicken Lady when the announcement was made.
   He was not only surprised, he was truly speechless. He thanked everyone, cried, and said, “But what am I going to do with my old bike?”
   The jar was still circulating around camp on day six. A total of $2,468.15 was raised in two days. The bike tech team is donating and constructing a custom bike -- complete with a custom paint job -- for the Chicken Lady, so much of the money raised will go towards the Chicken Lady’s donation minimum of $2,500 for next year’s ride.
   Needless to say, the Chicken Lady will be riding on some fancy wheels for AIDS/LifeCycle 3 next June.
   It was a selfless gesture made by hundreds of people, recognizing the selfless efforts of a man who has given countless hours to fight the AIDS pandemic.
   How does riding a bike make a person a hero? It doesn’t. The heroic effort was not an individual act, but rather the collective act of the community that was born out there on the road.
   This latest AIDS/LifeCycle ride raised $4.1 million for two organizations that provide vital services for those living with HIV/AIDS – the San Francisco AIDS Foundation and the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center — to fight a deadly disease that is going through the world like a wildfire.
   As Christen said, there are similarities between the War on Terror and the War on AIDS. Both have devastated thousands – if not millions – of lives, threatening the stability of entire countries, and both are linked to our nation’s security.
   Sadly, the government’s response to the war on AIDS has been woefully inadequate. Moreover, in this time of continued budget cuts, organizations like the SF AIDS Foundation and the LA Gay & Lesbian Center are forced to rely even more on funding from donors, and events like this, and less on government monies.
   The devastation wrought by AIDS is not going away as a result of our week on the road. But, surely, if 1,000 men and women of all ages and from every walk of life can leave family and jobs behind for a week and ride 600 miles on bikes in common cause, then we at least have proven there is hope.
   And that is why we ride.